Legacy
by Jennifer Jolie
Summary: Dystopian: Carrot only wanted justice. Angua only wanted him to be happy. Now he's become the king, and everything he hates... ['He's good and kind and born to be a king... I'm almost certain.']


A little OOC, the other end of the scale, grim.

Excerpt used from The Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett.

No smiles here. Chocolates highly recommended to replenish the endorphin count.

**2. Almost certain**

_He's good and kind and born to be a king of the ancient sort that wore oak leaves and rules from a seat under a tree, and though he tries hard he never has a cynical thought._

_I'm almost certain._

**3. A king**

And so it continued.

She began taking on small additional tasks at first. A little paperwork, or sometimes filling in for officers who couldn't cover their duties, extending her own lone patrol a little further each night. Coming earlier and earlier to work, until she never seemed to leave.

Care, or dedication, maybe.

She knew, really, that it was neither. Ankh-Morpork had a king, after all this time. Justice – she wasn't noble enough for the word, but he was. She thought it'd been the right thing to do. No... she didn't do the right thing, she did what felt right. And now she missed him so much it felt like she had a hole in her heart.

Today was a beautiful spring day, the air heavy with the scent of flowers. She curled her tail around herself and slept fitfully in a corner of the Watch House.

**4. The good hands of the law**

"Your _Majesty_ is ready for today's case?" Quickstart simpered.

The king held up a hand. "No. Tell me, Quickstart, how is the kingdom faring?"

"Business is _booming_, the people are _fed_ and the Ankh is _sparkling_," Quickstart said, pronouncing the words as though they offended him. "Crime rates _virtually_ nil, my lord, but is that not what are here for today, sire?"

The king fidgeted, caught himself, and sighed. "We'll just get started, then. Read me the charges."

Quickstart bowed comtemptuously low. "As you will, my lord." He nodded sharply to the two guards by the doors, who returned the nod and left the Hall of Judgment. A messenger produced a scroll, which Quickstart unrolled with a fluorish. He shook his head disapprovingly. "Tut-tut, what _have_ we here... four men with their throats torn out and other gro_tes_que injuries."

"What, for no reason?"

"Oh, they were attempting armed robbery at the time," Quickstart said airily.

The king furrowed his brow. "Why didn't I hear about this?"

Quickstart smiled condescendingly. "_Naturally_ the City Watch arrived and settled everything, your honor. But there_ is_ this one thing..."

The great doors burst open. The two guards reentered, dragging with them a snarling, pale-blonde wolf, its paws bound together with thick, coarse rope.

"No violence would have been _necessary_ to avert the burglary," Quickstart crowed. "But Sergeant Angua here got a little too, how shall we say, _excited_ by the hunt..."

"Murder for theft," King Carrot said quietly.

"That is correct. The agreed punishment was banishment, and that would be more mercy than this wretched creature deserves. See to it, _sire_, and this monster will never be your responsibility again."

Automatically the guards' heads turned to look at the Mace, in its sconce beside the throne. The symbol of justice in the hands of the king. When the king lowered it, his decision was irreversible.

Carrot reached for the mace, and then he stood and walked over to where Angua lay on the floor. She growled, a low, long growl.

"How long have you been like this?" Carrot asked in an undertone, sure that only he and Angua could hear.

She stared reproachfully at him. But her eyes were wild.

"Personal isn't the same as important," he whispered. "That's what you meant, wasn't it, when you broke your word? Look at us, Angua, we hate this."

She gave him a pleading look – but Angua was gone from her, and he from him.

"But I did promise you," the king whispered. "And I won't let you go."

An odd expression crossed the king's face. His knuckles turned slowly white. He brought the mace crashing down on Angua's bowed head.

**1. Gray**

After all this time, the heir to the throne was born. And so it began. Ankh-Morpork would have a king, by the name of Carrot Ironfoundersson...

...Carrot sat up in bed, suddenly awake. The bed springs creaked in protest.

"Angua?" he whispered urgently, shaking her gently by the shoulder.

The faintest suggestion of dawn was creeping over the windowsill. Angua's eyes opened slowly, blinking in the gray.

"Angua, do you remember what you made me promise last year when we were in Uberwald?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

Carrot exhaled. "Angua, promise me you'll... never let me leave the Watch. You'll never let anyone take me from the Watch, do you promise?"

Angua rested her chin on her hand. "Is this about you becoming the king?"

He sighed.

"Promise?" he said.

_-- end_


End file.
